Sherlock Holmes: An Emerald in the Dust
by xXx Midnight Star
Summary: What if the Sherlock Holmes movie had an extra character? What if Sherlock had a fiancee? This is Florence Bennett's story.
1. Chapter 1

**Unfortunately, i don't own Sherlock Holmes. Everything here belongs to Arthur Conan Doyle and Guy Ritchie. The Bennett family are mine, though :) **

**This is my first fanfic. Criticism is always welcome and reviews are like virtual cookies to me. I love cookies :) **

**Enjoy :) **

Sherlock Holmes

An Emerald in the Dust

Chapter one

Riding through the damp, dark streets of London in a carriage, we headed for our destination in quick speed. Clarkie had loaded his shot gun as did Watson with his pistol, and Lastrade had glanced at both of them, with a look in his eyes that said he was completely prepared for whatever situation may face us at the end of our journey. Watson looked at me, and handed me a small hand gun. I smiled my thanks to him and glanced at Lastrade, who gave me a deep glare back. I had seen that glare many times before. It was a glare that said he disapproved. It was a glare he gave me every time I accompanied them on a case. It was a glare I had grown accustomed to.

As we drew nearer to our location, Lastrade loaded his pistol and both he, Watson and I shared a look with the constables in the carriage. We were all prepared, it seemed. I heaved a sigh. Making our way to the scene we were approaching always seemed to take longer than it actually did. Finally, the carriage did stop and Lastrade nodded at his constables and they stood and left the carriage. All three of them vacated, then Lastrade, leaving Watson and I bringing up the rear. Lastrade and his men walked straight ahead. I went to follow, but before I could take more than three steps away from the carriage, someone grabbed my wrist, pulling me to a halt. I whirled around, hand tightly clenched around my pistol and saw Watson with a finger to his lips, signalling for me to stay quiet. I frowned at him, my eyes questioning what was in his mind. He said nothing, gently pulling me towards the door of the building we were to enter. He let my wrist go and he silently opened the door and we sneaked in, I gently and quietly closed the door behind us. Inside felt warm and quite welcoming, more so than I was expecting. I approached Watson, who was taking in the layout of the building, which was certainly bigger than it looked from the outside. I looked up and down the staircase which we had found ourselves at.

I sighed. "Where do you suppose he is?"

Watson, not needing to ask who I was referring to, answered almost immediately. "I have no idea."

That statement blew out any confidence I may have had. "Where do you suppose we start?"

This time, Watson took a moment to answer, considering all options. "Downstairs. There's less ground to cover so it can be done quickly. And before you ask, I don't think it wise to split up to search." He made his way down the stairs. "We don't yet know the perpetrator of these crimes, therefore don't know how dangerous they are. It is best to stick together."

I followed him, no longer asking questions. By this time, even an imbecile like Lastrade would have noticed our absence, so we had to work quickly and quietly, working our way around the maze. After turning what felt like the same corner for the hundredth time, I heard something. Muttering. Definite muttering. I clasped Watson's shoulder, as it was obvious that he hadn't heard it. He stopped and looked back at me. I nodded my head to the left, the direction of the muttering, and his gaze followed the direction. A seconds silence was all it took. Once he had heard it, his eyes lit up and we began to tip-toe towards the location. It steadily grew louder and clearer and we knew we were on the right path.

Suddenly, Watson held his arm in front of me, blocking my path. I stopped and looked at him. Once again he had his finger to his lips, signalling for me to keep quiet. In front of us was a big built man of about six foot, muscles like weights and fists the size bricks. And in front of him was a man, completely unaware of his presence.

The man placed a large hand on the smaller mans shoulder, and without a seconds pause, he retaliated. Watson and I ran towards the fighting duo and Watson grabbed the larger man from behind by the neck, ensuring he didn't move. Meanwhile, the smaller man held his hand at the mans nose, making it harder for him to breathe. Throughout the larger mans struggling, the muttering continued from downstairs. I had moved from behind Watson to overlook the activity below us. Whilst passing the smaller man, I glanced at him, a slight smile on my lips.

"I like the hat."

Without looking my way, he replied. "I just picked it up."

The large man still struggled, but my friends refused to let go of their grip, and working ever so quietly. I sneaked another peak to what was below us. No one heard or suspected a thing.

"Did you remember your revolver?" Watson asked.

"Ah. Knew I forgot something." Our friend replied calmly, expression not changing. "Thought I left the stove on."

"You did." Watson confirmed as the large man in their grip slumped into unconsciousness. Even though our friend had removed his hand, Watson refused to release him.

"I think that's quite enough." Our friend reassured him. He looked at the mans face. "You are a doctor, after all."

Watson released the man and let him drop quietly just beside my feet. Both men stood. Watson held out his hand. Our friend looked at it and then took his hand without hesitating.

"Always nice to see you, Watson." he whispered. Both men took off their hats and Sherlock Holmes looked at me. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You never can resist adventure." He smiled at me and I returned it. All three of us looked down to the scene still unravelling below us. "Where's the Inspector?" he asked us.

"He's getting his troops lined up." Watson informed him.

Holmes looked at him before handing Watson his cane walking in the direction we came. "That could take all day."

The three of us rushed downstairs, making our way towards the scene and soon came across the men acting as guards. We all took different angles, covering more ground and saving time, and we all struck without warning.

I struck the first of two men with a kick behind his knee cap, sending him to the floor, and hitting him with my gun before he could grab someone's attention, or a weapon. No more than a second after that, someone attacked me, throwing a punch and hitting me in the jaw. I staggered back a few paces and forced myself back up. I kneed the closest man to me in the groin, making him double over in pain, and then brought his head down to my knee, and threw him aside. The second man came at me and I gave him my hardest punch. It wasn't enough to stun him, but it was enough to distract him and take his weapon. Although I had a loaded gun in my hand, I was never partial to use it. The phrase 'trigger-happy' applied to Holmes more than it did me.

I took the mans weapon and threw it across the side of his face with every bit of strength I had within me, which knocked him into a wall, which did stun him. Suddenly there was a loud gunshot and my ears began to ring, making the room spin a little. I looked around for a second, dazed and confused after the shock of the gunshot and I felt the first man grab me by the waist and push me into a wall, knocking all the oxygen out of me, and giving me my hearing back thankfully, but also giving him the opportunity to throw in some punches. Once again, I brought up the weapon I had picked up, which I realised was a baton, and threw it over the mans head several times, hoping for luck, rather than skill to kick in. His hands left my waist and made their way onto my neck, despite the thrashing from the baton. His huge hands covered my small neck and he pushed into my throat, blocking my airwaves. Panic set in before anything else and I used all of my energy to hit the man with the baton again and again, before I realised that it was pointless.

My senses left me and I could feel myself suffocating. All of a sudden, I felt one last push of strength against my neck and the man looked at me… and slumped down in front of me. I regained myself, breathing for the first time in what felt like years, my senses returning. I realised I was sat on the floor, Holmes' arm around my waist supporting me. I looked into his dark eyes and felt a jolt of electricity through me. He brushed a strand of hair from my face.

"Are you alright?"

All I could do was nod. So I nodded without ever breaking eye contact. As I looked deep into his eyes, I remembered, like I always remembered every time I looked into his eyes, why I did this job and risked my life. For him. Everything I did, was for him, entirely.

Eventually, my breathing slowed, despite my heart still pounding as loudly as it could, and we were both dragged back to where we were supposed to be. Holmes suddenly looked at where the chanting was still coming from, which I hadn't realised. We both saw Watson raise his gun to the cloaked figure and I suddenly realised there was a woman on the table. She raised a dagger in her own hand and aimed it for her abdomen. Once again, Holmes looked at me, and I let out a sigh I didn't even realise I was holding onto. I nodded once, giving him piece of mind that I was okay and he rushed off towards the woman. Before she had a chance to place the dagger where it was aimed, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her dead in her tracks and the figure stopped chanting. Holmes snatched the dagger from the woman's hand and threw it down onto the floor. A wild wind swept through the room, thrashing my already wild hair around, and blowing out the torches that lit the room. Silence entered the crypt and Holmes raised his baton, which I had just realised he had been holding, to the hooded figure.

Watson had come to me and offered his hand to me. I took it and he helped me up before resuming his previous stance, holding up his gun to the figure. I stood by him, looking the part, though not holding my gun.

The man spoke, his ice cold voice filling the large empty room, even though it was barely above a whisper. "Sherlock Holmes," Holmes lowered his weapon, never taking his eyes off the man. The mans head tilted slightly, though not enough for Watson and I to see his face and his voice raised a little. "And his loyal dogs. Tell me, Doctor," he said chillingly, addressing Watson. "As a medical man, have you enjoyed my work?"

"Let me show you how much I've enjoyed it." He lowered his gun, raised his cane and headed straight for the man, who had turned around and faced us, as if he were expecting to be attacked. Holmes rushed from where he was to his friend.

"Watson, don't!" He stopped Watson and the pair froze. They both appeared to be looking at something. "Observe." Holmes said quietly, and I walked over to where the pair were stood. Right there, just centimetres from Watson's face was a weapon, though none of the like I had ever seen before. It was made entirely of glass and very small and innocent looking. However, it also looked very long and very sharp.

"How did you see that?" Watson asked shakily, looking up at the figure, whose face we still could not see.

Holmes looked at the figure also. "Because I was looking for it." He answered simply and shattered the tiny yet dangerous weapon with the two batons he was using. Watson lowered his cane and brought up his gun again. Holmes brought up one of the batons and moved the long dark cape from the mans head, revealing a very familiar face. He looked at Holmes and I drew in a breath and frowned.

"Lord Blackwood."

He looked at me, and I felt myself shiver under his gaze. "You seem surprised."

Holmes turned to Watson. "Watson, I would say the girl needs your attention."

Watson lowered his gun. "Indeed." He raised his cane once again and hit Blackwood in the jaw, forcing the man to stagger before he went to see to the young girl. I looked to where Watson was going and felt Holmes' eyes on me. He had an annoying habit of doing that, watching me when he thought I wasn't paying attention. I'm sure that most of the time he was making sure I stayed out of trouble. Other times I just think he enjoyed the view. I smiled slightly to myself and glanced over at him. He gave a quick smile before turning his attention back to Blackwood.

Suddenly, footsteps filled the room and Lastrade and his officers walked into the room. The inspector pointed a gun at one of the men, who was reaching for a gun.

"Oh, I'd leave that alone if I were you, boy-o." he said confidently, and pointed a gun at the man who raised his arms, showing that he was no longer a threat. "Good lad." He then kicked the man in the face, probably to show who was in charge.

Holmes turned to him. "Impeccable timing, Lastrade." Lastrade looked up from the criminal he kicked in the dirt to Holmes then to Lord Blackwood. "We've one for the doctor," Holmes continued. He turned back to Blackwood. "And one for the rope." Blackwood gazed back at Holmes as Lastrade stared at Blackwood as though he couldn't believe what he saw.

"Clarkie?" he asked.

"Sir," Clarkie answered, lowering his gun, and walking past Holmes and I to get to Blackwood.

"This woman needs a hospital immediately." I heard Watson say loudly and I turned towards him.

"Put her in the back of the Moriah." I heard someone say, and I realised I was feeling very dizzy and suffocated. I began to wonder how much longer I could last down here when someone jolted me out of my thought train. I looked up from the floor and stared into Holmes' face, which was full of concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked again.

I cleared my throat and nodded, glancing quickly back down at the floor before looking back at him. I smiled at him, and he attempted to smile back, though his heart wasn't in it.

"I don't like that you risked your life down here," he told me. His grip on my waist tightened. I placed my arm around his waist also.

"What are you going to do? Stop me from doing it again?" I joked and smiled at him.

"If I have to," I looked at him and his face was straight. Not even the slightest hint of a smile. "It was dangerous for you here tonight. It is every time you work on a case. It seems you won't be happy until you are either in the hospital or the morgue."

I groaned, looked at the floor and shook my head. Not this. Not again. I wanted to argue back and tell him how much I enjoyed, no, loved the job, no matter how much my life was at risk. However, I let the matter drop and said nothing. I would let him have this round, but the next time this subject came up, he wouldn't be so lucky.

I looked up to see Blackwood being escorted out of the building by Clarkie and Lastrade approaching Holmes and I. We fell apart from each other and Lastrade looked at Holmes. Holmes, however, was watching Blackwood leaving.

"And you were supposed to wait for my orders." He told Holmes.

I turned to the inspector. "If we had, you'd be cleaning up a corpse and chasing a rumour."

Holmes looked at me and smiled, then turned to Lastrade. "Besides, the girls' parents hired me, not the Yard. Why they thought you'd require any assistance is beyond me."

I hid a smile and looked to the floor. When it came to insulting people's intelligence, Lastrades especially, Holmes never cut short.

"Well, London will breathe a sigh of relief." he said to all three of us.

"Indeed," Watson said from his post. "Congratulations, Lastrade."

Holmes fished into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigar. "Bravo, inspector. Have a cigar."

Lastrade took the cigar and I heard a man call for our attention. All four of us looked at him. There he stood with the most awful contraption ever invented. A camera.

"Cheese." he called and a huge flash filled the room, but not before Holmes could hide his face, and I turned away.

I suppose I really should introduce myself. My name is Florence Bennett. Although, it won't be for much longer.

**Hope you enjoyed it :) remember, reviews are virtual cookies and I love criticism. It helps build character. Chapter Two will be up shortly :) **


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

Sitting in my room at 221b Baker street, enjoying the rare peace and quiet that secluded the house. I closed my eyes, playing with the ring on my finger. I smiled and opened my eyes, admiring the emerald surrounded by diamonds and remembered how it was presented to me. I closed my eyes once again and placed my head back. I took a breath and smelled the familiar smell of gunpowder. My eyes snapped open and I frowned. Gunpowder in a house? What the hell was Holmes up to? I decided to leave it and closed my eyes once again. Whatever Holmes was up to, he would have to endure it on his own. That was when three large bangs rang through the house, making all the rooms shake. Once again, my eyes snapped open and I stood and almost ran out of the room. I pulled the door open and ran down the stairs to see Watson stood out on the landing outside Holmes' room. I approached them at the bottom of the staircase and smiled at our landlady. She looked at me anxiously and asked, "If the doctor can't have a longer engagement, then can't you have a shorter one?" she said and I could hear the hint underneath it.

My smile grew. "I think my mother and father may have something to say about that idea."

Before Mrs. Hudson could reply , a man walked out of Watson's office and looked at the three of us.

"I smell gunpowder." he stated and stepped towards us angrily that Watson had to step back a step or two. Another gunshot rang from the room opposite us, making us all jump with fright. Watson closed the gap between he and his patient, placing an arm on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Captain Phillips." he said kindly and calmly. "Perhaps a nice cup of tea?" He ushered him towards Mrs. Hudson. "Same time next week."

I stepped aside, allowing the two to pass, leaving Watson and myself to deal with Holmes.

"Come along, Captain. It's quieter downstairs."

"Mrs Hudson?" I asked before I entered the room. She turned to me, concern in her eyes. I pointed to the door. "Could you please bring something to cheer him up?"

She sighed and continued down the stairs. Watson looked at me and sighed heavily with a look that said 'here we go'.

He knocked on the door twice and opened it, without waiting for an invitation. The door, however, jammed after opening a few inches, barely enough room to squeeze through. Watson managed to, despite the small gap and I sneaked a look into the room. It was completely dark. Not a shred of light seemed to exist in that hellhole.

"Permission to enter the armoury?" I heard Watson ask Holmes, in an annoyed tone of voice.

"Granted." I heard Holmes mutter before hearing another enormous bang.

Watson managed to push the door open a little more and ushered me in. He led the way into the dark, dusky room, which smelled of smoke and god knows what else.

"Watson, I am in the process of inventing a device that suppresses the sound of a gunshot." Watson entered the room, heading straight for the large windows. I stepped in after him, pausing just by the door. It was then I noticed that Holmes was sitting behind the door, almost hiding behind it, in fact. He heard my footsteps and looked up at me. "Oh, hello Flo."

I tried my best to give him my sternest look, but I'm not sure how successful I was. Watson suddenly pulled the curtains open, causing Holmes to yell and fall off the chair he had been sitting on. I squinted at the bright light after just being in the dark room for a few seconds, so goodness knows what it did to Holmes' eyes.

Watson turned to face us. "It's not working." he told his friend, referring to the idea that Holmes had told him of. He approached him. "May I see that?" he asked, holding his hand out to receive the contraption that Holmes had been playing with. He recovered from his spot on the floor and I helped him back into his seat, he smiled his thanks to me. He handed Watson the device. The fire began to whistle and I moved to the table which was, as Holmes always said, 'organised mess'. I began to sort it, looking for cases the detective could spend his time on and Watson placed Holmes' gun on the table after unloading it. He walked from the table to the fireplace, which was now whistling frantically.

"You know, it's been three months since your last case." he informed his friend, kicking the whistling kettle out of the way and distinguishing the fire with a glass of water. He slammed the glass back down on the table and marched towards the next window.

Holmes realised what was on Watson's mind and peeked between his hands. "Yes, yes. Gently, gently Watson, be gentle with me." Watson threw the curtain open again and again, Holmes yelled and fell off his chair again.

Watson looked for a second at the crumpled man on the floor and then to the case notes I handed him. "Don't you think it's time you found another one?" he asked.

Holmes crawled out from where he had fallen and made his way across the room on his hands and knees. I shook my head, looking to the floor.

"I can't but agree." Holmes told Watson. "My mind rebels at stagnation. Give me problems. Give me work. The sooner the better." Watson handed him the paper and he took it from his place on the floor and made himself comfortable at Watson's feet, as Watson sat in a chair. I made my way over and stood in front of the window, enjoying the light that filled the room. Watson looked through the case reports while Holmes looked at the front page of the paper. I glanced over his shoulder. It was of the news of Blackwood's hanging which was due to take place tomorrow.

"Let's see then," Watson began. "There's a letter here from Mrs. Ramsey of Queen's Park. Her husband's disappeared."

"He's in Belgium with the scullery maid." Holmes said, before Watson could continue. Watson and I both looked at Holmes. Sometimes, it amazed me how his mind worked. He continued to look at the front page of the paper, confusion etching his face. "Is it November?" he asked.

I shook my head and looked at the floor again. "Yes, Sherlock."

He continued to look around the room in confusion, as though trying to sort things out in his head. Watson moved on and read the next case. "All right. Lady Radford reports.. Oh, her emerald bracelet has disappeared."

"Insurance swindle." Holmes informed us. "Lord Radford likes fast women and slow ponies." his eyes, I noticed, never left the paper. "Oh, I see you're the attending physician at Blackwood's hanging."

Watson looked at him. "Yes. It was our last case together and I wanted to see it through to the end."

Holmes' eyes left the paper and Watson looked at him, realising what he had said. An awkward silence set within the room for a second. I looked out of the window, unable to look at either of them. To think that the three of us wouldn't be working on a case together again felt all too weird.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Hudson walked in, sending us all out of our own places and back to the small dusky room that Holmes inhabited.

Holmes folded the paper and placed it to one side, eyes avoiding Watson. Mrs. Hudson turned the corner and faced the three of us.

"A Mr. Lewis is seeking-"

Holmes interrupted Watson. "There's only one case that intrigues me at present. The curious case of Mrs. Hudson, the absentee landlady." Both Watson and I looked at Holmes, frowning. Holmes, however was watching our landlady, eyes unblinking. "I've been studying her comings and goings. They appear most sinister." he finished with a whisper.

Mrs. Hudson, however, did not let it phase her. "Tea, Mr. Holmes." she stated, stepping towards us and the table. Watson moved to help her and I moved to Watson's previous seat.

"Is it poisoned, nanny?"

"There's enough of that in you, already." she replied witfully and laid the tea down.

"Don't touch!" Holmes protested. "Everything is in its proper place as per usual, nanny." He said the final word as hatefully as he could, though deep down, I don't think he hated the woman. Just disliked her. Mrs. Hudson laid everything on the table, took the tray, and turned to leave, but not before looking at a still figure laying on the floor.

"He's killed the dog. Again." She continued on her way, leaving us three to it.

Panic filled me and I rushed from my seat to where Watson's dog lay. "What have you done to Gladstone now?" I almost shouted at the man.

Holmes stood from where he was sat. "I was simply testing a new anesthetic. He doesn't mind."

I remained seated next to the poor, abused dog. Watson sighed heavily and turned to Holmes.

"Holmes, as your doctor-"

"He'll be right as a trivet in no time."

"As your friend…" Holmes looked at him and sighed, sitting in the seat Watson previously occupied. "You've been in this room for two weeks. I insist, you have to get out."

The dullness in my head signified a headache was on its way and I rubbed my head, looking between the two men.

"There's nothing of interest for me out there, on earth, at all." Holmes replied, setting his feet up.

Watson looked at me then put his hands in his pockets. I nodded my head, answering his unasked question.

"So you're free this evening?"

"Absolutely." Holmes replied.

"Dinner?"

"Wonderful."

"The Royale?"

"My favourite."

There was a moments silence. "Mary's coming." Watson turned to leave and I saw terror fill Holmes' eyes in a way I had never seen before.

"Not available." He suddenly said.

Watson stopped on his trek to the door. "You're meeting her, Holmes." I saw anger in his eyes and heard it in his voice. The two men rarely got angry with one another, but when they did, it was monstrous, and I, for one, stayed away from it.

Holmes turned away, as though he had nothing to say, then turned back to the doctor. "Have you proposed yet?" he raised his eyebrows, already knowing the answer.

Watson, also seeing where this was going, raised his eyebrows. "No," he confessed. "I haven't found the right ring."

"Oh, then it's not official." Holmes turned to me, giving me his cocky grin, thinking he was being clever. I just glared at him for embarrassing his friend in this way. Thank God it was only us here.

"It's happening, whether you like it or not." Watson confirmed. I saw Holmes' face fall in disappointment. "8.30. The Royale. Wear a jacket." and with that he exited the room, leaving me and Holmes alone. I heard quietly Holmes' reply just a second too late.

"You wear a jacket."

I sighed heavily and felt Holmes' eyes fall upon me. "What?" he asked me. Sometimes, men were worse than small children.

8.25. Sat at a table in The Royale. Goodness knows why Holmes wanted to come early. Hopefully, it was to show Watson that he finally accepted that things were moving with him and Mary. Although, I wasn't that naive.

I was dressed in my best, and favourite dress that Holmes had bought me. When I had worn it for the first time, he complimented how beautiful I looked and how the deep shade of purple and contrasted wonderfully against my emerald green eyes. I smiled at the memory and Holmes looked up across the table from his watch to admire me. A smile spread across his face.

"As always, you look beautiful in that dress."

My smile grew in response and I could feel myself blushing. I looked away to take a sip of my drink, although his eyes never left me, making me feel like a giggly little school girl, as he did every time he looked at me.

Suddenly a voice came from behind me. "Holmes."

Holmes' eyes moved up from me to look at who had called his name and took his attention. I looked behind myself. There stood Watson and Mary, arm in arm, Mary keeping her expression neutral and Watson glaring at Holmes.

"You're early." the doctor said.

"Fashionably." Holmes stated. We both stood to greet our guests.

"Miss Mary Morstan."

I stood and greeted Mary. She was a lovely woman, and I enjoyed her company. As I had told Watson many times before, to Holmes' disappointment, I thought he and Mary made a wonderful couple. I sat back down after acknowledging Watson and Holmes stepped towards Mary.

"What a pleasure." He kissed her hand. "For the life of me, I have no idea why it's taken him so long to introduce us properly." He looked at Watson and smiled, Watson looked directly back, and I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

"The pleasure is mine. " Mary said, taking a seat in between Holmes and I. "It really is quite a thrill to meet you, Mr. Holmes. I've heard so much about you. I have a pile of detective novels at home. Wilkie Collins, Poe."

"It's true." Watson confirmed. I glanced at him. He was looking very nervous. More so than Mary, I thought.

"It can seem a little far-fetched though sometimes," Mary continued. "Making grand assumptions out of small details."

It wasn't entirely true, I'll be honest with you, but I wasn't going to prove the lady wrong. Besides, who was I to tell her?

"Well, that's not entirely true, is it?" Holmes asked. I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. The man could be so annoying at times. Watson laid a hand on my shoulder in comfort and I was glad someone was here to support me. I smiled my thanks at him. "In fact," Holmes continued, "the little details are by far the most important." Mary tried to smile through her embarrassment and I smiled at her. "Take Watson," he said.

"I intend to." Mary stated, causing Holmes to stop his sentence and me to giggle. Holmes ignored both Mary and I, and continued.

"See his walking stick? A rare African snake wood hiding a blade of high-tensile steel." He pulled on the stick and sure enough, Watson's secret weapon was revealed. If Mary was surprised to see the blade, she hid it very well. "A few were awarded to veterans of the Afghan war so I can assume he's a decorated soldier." Holmes explained and Watson shuffled in his seat, uncomfortable with the spotlight suddenly on him. "Strong, brave, born to be a man of action. And neat, like all military men." Holmes carried on. "Now I check his pockets." Watson tried his best to stop our friend to riffle through his pockets but to no avail. Holmes pulled out a used betting stub. "Ah. A stub from a boxing match." he turned to Mary, who smiled at Holmes, never taking her eyes off him. "Now I can infer he's a bit of a gambler. I'd keep an eye on that dowry, if I were you." he threw the stub onto the table.

"Those days are behind me." Watson assured us.

"Right behind you." the detective countered. "He's cost us the rent more than once." he told Mary.

"Sherlock," I said under my breath, not loudly, but the tone was just so he knew he was pushing his luck. I couldn't believe this, I couldn't believe he was doing this. Well, yes, I could actually, this was Sherlock Holmes, but I made myself clear this evening that he was to keep his big mouth shut. I looked up from the spot I was staring at in the table to his direction, to find him looking at me with an innocent look on his face. He opened his mouth to protest but shook my head firmly before anything left it. His mouth closed and he kept his eyes down. He knew that I was angry. I don't get angry often, I'm a very peaceful person but he infuriated me so much and I was glad that he knew it.

"Well, with all due respect, Mr. Holmes, you know John very well." Mary said, and again, I put my head in my hands, knowing exactly where this was going. "What about a complete stranger?"

Holmes looked up to the ceiling and I saw him actually considering the offer. "What can you tell about me?" she asked.

"You?" Holmes asked softly, looking at her.

"I don't think that's-" Watson started.

"I don't know that that's.." Holmes commented.

"Not at dinner." I added.

"Perhaps some other time." Holmes said, looking at Mary.

"I insist." She told him.

"You insist?" he asked her.

"Oh, God," I muttered, a little too loudly, I fear, because Mary shot me a look. I began to fiddle with the engagement ring on my finger, a sure sign that I was getting nervous.

"You remember we discussed this." Watson told Holmes.

"The lady insists." Holmes retorted. They both held each others gaze for several seconds, though to each of us on the table, it felt like moments. Once again, I could feel the dull thud in my head and tried to block it out.

Holmes gave a final look at Watson, then at me, and pushed his chair towards Mary, who held her ground, and put his head in his hand, looking at her intently. He was silent for a few seconds, whilst the two of them looked at each other, unblinking, Mary challenging him and Holmes accepting it. I glanced at Watson, who glanced at back at me, as much worry etched into his face as there was in mine. We both turned back at them, both afraid of the outcome.

"You're a governess." Holmes stated.

"Well done." Mary said.

"Yes, well done." Watson said. "Shall we-" he placed his hand to a waiter for some wine. "Waiter," he called.

"Your student" Holmes thought a bit more. "is a boy of eight." he concluded.

Mary's face was unfaltering, I'll give her that. "Charlie's seven, actually." she corrected him.

"Charlie, huh?" Holmes contemplated, and I had the sudden realisation he was toying with her. This was simply for his own amusement. As soon as Watson had finished pouring a glass of wine for me, I picked the glass up and took a large sip, trying to hide my anger at the stubborn man. "Then he's tall for his age. He flicked ink at you today." He took the drink that Watson had poured for him and placed it on the table.

Mary broke her eye contact with Holmes to look at Watson, a bright smile on her face. "Do I have ink on my face?"

Watson looked up from his wine pouring duties. "There's nothing wrong with your face." he assured her.

"There are two drops on your ear, in fact." Holmes informed her. "India blue's nearly impossible to wash off." Mary looked from Holmes, to me, then to Watson, obviously a little impressed at the observation. She wasn't the first to be impressed by it and she certainly wouldn't be the last. I watched the two of them closely, sipping my wine every so often. "Anyway, a very impetuous act by the boy." Holmes continued. " But you're too experienced to act rashly, which is why the lady for whom you work lent you that necklace." The smile faded from Mary's face and she looked from Holmes to the beautiful necklace she was wearing. "Oriental pearls, diamonds, a flawless ruby. Hardly the gems of a governess." She looked from the necklace to Watson, who tried his best not to say anything to our friend, and giving Mary a kind look of support. Mary glanced back at Holmes. "However, the jewels you are not wearing tell us rather more." he told her.

"Holmes," Watson warned him, but he ignored the doctor and continued.

"You were engaged." he said. I pulled my eyes from Mary's face to her left hand on the table and sure enough, if you looked carefully and knew what you were looking for, there was the unmistakeable ring of pale skin around her finger, where a small, delicate ring once was. "The ring is gone, but the lighter skin where it once sat suggests that you spent some time abroad wearing it proudly," Mary, at this point, had tried unsuccessfully hide her finger, then took her glass, avoiding Holmes' gaze completely. "That is until you were informed of its true, modest worth, at which point you broke off the engagement, and returned to England for better prospects." Mary lowered her glass slightly and glared at Holmes. He looked away to Watson. "A doctor, perhaps?" he joked.

It was no surprise, to Holmes even, when Mary threw the remainder of her wine in his face. An awkward silence filled the table, the three of us glaring at Holmes and Holmes still smiling at his friend. Mary placed down the glass after a moment and Watson looked down, ashamed of how far his friend had pushed. I took my gaze from him to anywhere, also ashamed of his insensitive ways.

After the shocked silence, Mary was the first of us to speak.

"Right on all accounts, Mr. Holmes, apart from one." she looked up to him, for the first time since his accusation, waiting for a reaction she would never get. "I didn't leave him. He died." Still with no reaction, she nodded her head in farewell to me and looked at John, picked up her bag and left the table. Anger seeped through my veins as she walked away and I shifted my eyes reluctantly towards Holmes, who removed his hand from his face and sighed thoughtfully. I wondered then if he had regretted the way in which he had done things.

"Well done, old boy." Watson said, then looked at me, a sad smile across his face. I smiled sadly back, and he stood from the table and went in the direction Mary went. I glared at the man sat across from me.

"How could you?" I almost spat the question at him.

He shrugged. "She insisted." he told me in a monotone voice.

"She insisted?" I repeated, completely shocked. I could really feel the anger in my veins surging now, and if I wasn't careful, it would pour out at any moment.

He nodded and I was completely speechless. Angry and speechless. Anyone can tell you that does not happen with me everyday. What was it about this man that infuriated me so? I looked into his deep, dark eyes and saw nothing there. Absolutely nothing. I averted my green eyes from his brown eyes and looked down into my lap. The ring on my finger caught my attention. The emerald caught the light and glittered. I was entranced by it, almost. Then he took my attention from the beautiful jewel.

"Did I mention how beautiful you look this evening?"

The question infuriated me. How could he embarrass Mary and Watson like that and expect to go back to how it was before they arrived? How dare he? I stood from my seat and stared him straight in the eyes and said something to him I never dreamed I would say. "I am ashamed to call you my fiancé sometimes, Sherlock!"

The words I said were not loud but were said in such a tone that he looked at me a shocked expression on his face. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but nothing came out. Before he could think of something witty and Holmes-like to say, I took my bag and walked out of the restaurant without a look back.


End file.
